"I heard the bell. All the rooms are numbered, so I don't get lost, or so I assume. I head towards number 129, the art room. That teacher liked order; he always wanted his students lined up, two by two, in front of his classroom! I see him in the distance, he's coming, there he is!
"Line up!" he said, in a neutral, serious tone.
"Come in!"
Without really choosing, I sat down right in the middle of the class, for no particular reason, facing his desk. I didn't like that man very much, with his overly authoritarian air. In class, he gave all of us a cold look. I observed a forced humor, like that of a lone bird in the rain. He must have been in a bad mood that day. I told myself I shouldn't move around too much because I'd already forgotten half my supplies! And I knew He didn't much like it. The more he talked, the more at ease he seemed. That was the man, like a chameleon in the forest, who can change color whenever he wants! Suddenly, I saw him coming towards me. What did he want? Stopping in front of my table, he leaned over and said:
"Where's your sharpening stone?"
Not knowing where to look, I was already trembling at the thought of being scolded! Gathering my courage, I raised my head and met his gaze with my dark eyes…! I saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. He said again:
"But… are you going to look down when I speak to you?!"
"Isn't it impolite not to look someone in the eyes when they're speaking to you?"
My hair, falling to my lower back, seemed to attract his attention. A hint of amusement played at the corner of his lips. I I found that man truly mediocre, with his authoritarian, cold, distrustful, and distant demeanor! He leaned closer, walked around the room, and at that very moment I wondered what I was going to get next? He was finally behind me. To my great surprise, he began to stroke my hair, as gently as possible, as if he were afraid of breaking it. I didn't move an inch, and everyone was watching us, as if waiting for the end of some adventurous spectacle! In a few seconds, everything had changed in his eyes, a flash of light, the immensity of the oceans, the very depths of the tropical seas just before a storm! I felt like I was ablaze, as if only my hair controlled my body and had ultimately saved me…! I raised my head and felt all eyes turn towards me. I felt guilty. "But… well, guilty of what?"
"You have beautiful hair." They were magnificent. Thick, ebony-black hair.
At that moment, I felt as if lightning bolts were piercing and striking my heart! Now I could even feel the hairs on my arms standing on end! These exquisite, sweet moments made me forget we were in class. Now, shivers ran through me from my toes to the roots of my hair! I never wanted him to stop. But what am I saying? My pride growing, I held my head high, I straightened my posture. Without moving, as if it were pleasant? I didn't understand. Why did I feel guilty about these pleasurable moments? Everyone's eyes were now fixed on him; he felt he had to put an end to his audacious gesture! With a firm and determined step, he turned on his heel and headed towards the blackboard. Without even glancing at me, he gave us some information about our lesson for today, "clouds." He explained different shades of gray, different mixtures we could study, and black and white. I simply gazed out the window, lost in my daydreams. Those few moments of tenderness he showed me had completely unsettled me—overwhelmed me, I might even say. I kept replaying in my mind that delicate, sensual, tender gesture. Never before had anyone paid me so much attention! Now a long shiver ran through me, from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair! I was still enjoying it. I was indulging in my imaginary, yet imaginable, world, and despite my efforts to concentrate, I suddenly felt eyes coming from all sides. My images blurred together… and I heard a distant voice.
“Stop daydreaming and think about what I just said!”
“My God, but… what had he explained? I hope he doesn’t call on me!” Then suddenly, not a sound, and in the silence that lasted far too long for my liking, I jumped. His voice resonated like a hammer in my head: “Miss Tarisiana! To the board!” With a casual gesture, he snapped his fingers and pointing to the painting, I thought to myself, "I absolutely hate this man with his affected, pretentious manner, and what's more, giving me orders! As if the world were at his feet?" I stared at him for a few seconds, my eyes narrowing, as if to show him I didn't much care for his vanity. I felt like a little poodle! And I thought, "You snap your fingers for a dog, but not for a person?" What kind of man is this? What should I do? Did I have no choice but to obey? With a sure and deliberate step, I stood up, as straight as a board, leaped to the front of the painting, and with a regal gesture, tucked a lock of my thick, black hair behind my back. He watched my every move, as if he wanted to catch me at the right moment, right where he could finally get his hands on me! "Honestly, he has nothing better to do than worry about me, doesn't he?" I looked him straight in the eye again and said firmly, but stammeringly:
"I... I... didn't listen to everything you were saying just before?"
He narrowed his eyes, a mischievous look in them, as if he wanted to reflect my image back at me...
